


Preacher (M!DB/Cicero)

by Nudebeme



Series: Chac and Cicero [20]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, Music, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudebeme/pseuds/Nudebeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble written to help paint a bigger picture on Chac and Cicero’s relationship, and Chac’s personality in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preacher (M!DB/Cicero)

"I guess you could say I’m a preacher," Chac confides, a palm to his chest as he regaled with his pious partner. "I hear the word of the gods, and spread it wherever I may roam. You can’t say that’s not the definition of a preacher. I think it is."

"Oh you do have a point, mmmh as always." Cicero raked the palm of his hand over his tired face and found it to be positively numb with drunkenness. "But listener, don’t you know it is a  _preachers_  desire to heal the sick, cure the damned and  _tolerate_  fools? How could the most dutiful Listener call himself a  _preacher_  when he only seeks to slay innocents for money- er, which he also spends on drugs and drink? Hmmm? Cicero wouldn’t tarnish the will of the Night Mother by such lowly remarks of do-goodery and chivalry.” 

It must have been the liquor- Cicero never defied his beliefs unless they truly insulted him. Chac did a doubletake and scoffed, but soon revealed a warm smile on his face despite Cicero’s sudden change of mood. His Listener found his retort quickly, leaning a lazy hand over to point at the miffed man before him. 

"Oh but I do heal the sick..as societies. I slip in unnoticed and take swift and appropriate end to those who plague the innocent. Abusive husbands, gold-seeking wives, -illegitimate children! pah! Once this holy man meets with them in the still of the night, these degenerates of society are done for."

Damn him. Cicero narrowed his tired eyes and pointed back, slurring his damnably quirky voice “You have a point!” He says angrily, pointlessly angry, “But there is no noble intent in the Dark Brotherhood’s ensemble. Exactly none. zero.” His hands flew about his face in a flamboyant display of attitude “So please, dear Listener, refrain from insulting Mother’s will.” 

Damn the Night Mother. He would have said it, but if he wanted all of Cicero’s heart and he simply could not let these feelings come out. She was a massive stake through Cicero’s heart at this point in his life; Chac couldn’t tear it out no matter how hard he tried. 

"You’re right Cicero. I shouldn’t say things like that." He sighed, not taking kindly to being forced to submit- he didn’t like to let that happen. 

"Thank you very  _much_!” Cicero’s voice broke, and he could see how drink has simply plastered his tiny muse- he’d been drinking more deeply as of late, Chac got concerned. Something may be brewing inside the Imperial’s imperfect brain about them, it’s happened before and this was the fruits of that anger. 

"Would you like me to play an evil song to make amends?" Chac’s music always won in the end with Cicero, it was always such a treat to hear his tune no matter what the occasion. Cicero didn’t even answer him and the elf was already going for his bandoleer, digging out his favorite flute from the leather scabbard. 

"Oh you could, Cicero wouldn’t mind at all if you played for one or two hmm..hours." The way he said that..like a demand. 

"You want me to play for two hours?!" Chac laughed out, holding his flute to his chest, and Cicero couldn’t refrain from blushing at the sound of his wicked snickers. "That’s an awful lot of songs for me to dig up, Cicero." 

"But it would make Cicero feel oh so much better~"  Cicero rolled his eyes to the elf in question, looking positively bratty from Chac’s angle. "-And isn’t that what you want too, Listener?" 

Chac couldn’t lie, he  _did_ live for saving Cicero, he just wished Cicero wouldn’t be so damn quick to realize that. Chac’s smile faltered as he dwelled on that thought for a moment too long.  _  
_

"You’re being fresh, Cicero." He said with a testy tone, narrowing his eyes at the little man who defied him yet again. His heart labored with the thought of Cicero’s problems set the tone for his music, and soon enough he was dancing his fingers along flute holes and producing a song that sounded so wicked it could only be a dirge of death.

Cicero crossed his arms across his stomach and watched from his cushy seat, fighting the urge to smile ear to ear at the sound of his flute.  Chac became lost in his thoughts as he played, eyes focused distantly on Cicero across the room. Music always managed to grip the ones he loved. Chac briefly thought of Vilkas, the way the beast inside him looked so swayed when they first met. 

Vilkas. How funny is seemed, looking at Cicero now, why he would have fallen so deeply for him. Like his husband they first met Chac as broken men, those who where too lost to know a savior when he came around. Wild, unpredictable, and smart-mouthed…some things two seemingly unsimilar men shared now in Chac’s thoughtful mind. 

Cicero cracked a grin when Chac drew such sharp breath he snorted, and at the very sight of his smile Chac’s worst worries melted away for the briefest moment. Shit. How one simple smile could make him feel this way scared Chac so. Cicero smiled when he snorted again, forced this time, until he was snarling and grunting in between every other note. The spectacle made Cicero simply snap, covering his mouth with both hands and cackling hard. 

The sound of his zany laughter just melted Chac, who pulled his lips from the flute and couldn’t resist sharing the laughter. They sounded so evil together, and the sound of them only made them laugh more. Chac’s worries melted at that point, forgetting all the pain he carried not a moment before. 

"Keep me laughing like this and I’ll run out of air to play!" Chac rubbed a tiny tear away from the corner of his eye, and Cicero’s lips twisted in a way that showed he was trying to pout but simply couldn’t. 

"Then use your lute! No, Cicero demands more music! Entertain me, worm!" drunk Cicero played, snooting his big nose in the air as if he where High King Ulfric Stormcloak himself. Chac couldn’t help but play along, groveling where he sat before prince Cicero. Music flowed again from his flute, tune now suddenly more charming; Chac played from the soul and when he was happy, so was his music. 

Cicero kicked his feet up on the table and watched, smitten with Chac and glad for every second he shares with him regardless of his mood. The Listener charmed him for a span of time before he had to put down his flute, spent. 

"So you want me to play my lute, next?" Chac asked, and the now tame Cicero felt a guilt well up in his aging heart. 

"Only if you can, poor Cicero was merely joking before…" 

Good. Cicero was calm now thanks to his music, and he should be good for the rest of the night. It was difficult taming such wild men, but it was Chac lived for. 

"I’ll give you a few, then we turn in. Alright with that, Cicero?" 

"Oooh, I’m more than alright! Do go on!" Cicero chirped, quite normally. It caught Chac off guard, but in the kind of way that made his heart glad. The romantic plucks of his lute strings now danced around in Cicero’s ears. They melted his foolish heart made sensitive by drink, and Chac could see the way his face softened to the sound. 

Music played on, and as it happened the two shared the sort of connection you only felt when love was plucking at the heartstrings of you both. Cicero is reminded of the many reasons why he fell for the Listener in these moments, fond feelings sobering his mind as he watched the swinging dreads of his entranced partner. He was so rhythmic…

"Alright, I think I should save these fingers for my next performance. I’m tired to Oblivion." Chac put away his lute and Cicero felt sad for it, blinking his bleary eyes at the sight of his Listener standing and fixing the lapels of his opened tunic. He was equally exhausted, and there was a big bed upstairs for them both to share. Cicero was all too eager, jumping up before stumbling and confused as to why.

"I’ve never seen you drink this way, you should lighten up next time." Chac spoke softly, in a way that wouldn’t open any doors to argument. "We can both take it easy on the drink." 

"That’s a good idea, mmmh." Cicero yawned, feeling as though tomorrow will be an intensely hungover morning- he didn’t look forward to that. They took up the creaky staircase to the Listener’s owned bed in a neat little bedroom for two. Cicero’s spent plenty of time in this house, he knew it up and down at this point. 

Cicero dropped his pants and pulled off his tunic only when Chac did so, both stripping naked and catching glances before switching to their sleeping clothes. Chac always demanded that Cicero wear his oversized tunics, because he loved the way he looked so tiny in them. The jester threw a red tunic over his head and fit himself into it, and Chac couldn’t conceal his smirk. 

"So handsome." Chac squeezes Cicero’s shoulder, seeing how the man looked positively bashful for that smallest moment. Chac was still nude and Cicero’s eyes darted down to his cock, then back up to his eyes.

"You’re looking fine as well," Cicero peeped, and it made Chac laugh at how blatant his actions could be. The elf left him there to put on his clothing, mind on his lover despite the guilt that always crept into his heart at this point of the night. He went to pull the covers away from the bed they’ll be sharing, and saw that Cicero has come to help him from the other side.

They climbed inside after Chac put out all the lights, and slots in the ceiling revealed Cicero to him through bands of pale blue light. He loved the way moonlight hit such sweetly white human skin, so milky and touchable. Cicero was laying on the bed before him, tucking his fit legs under the covers and staring up to him through the dark. 

"Make room, you know what happens next." 

Cicero’s heart stilled in his chest and he gulped, like everything the Listener did, it remained a mystery. 

"W-what happens next?" Cicero stammered, and Chac laughed, letting his dreads fall across his chest as he approached the bed. He always was so imposing, he had a big frame for a Wood Elf, muscular and hairy. 

"I climb in and hug the lights out of you." 

"Poh! You devil!" Cicero cackles and is pushed back on the bed when the elf climbs over him, scooping his deliciously petite frame into his arms and holding tightly. Cicero may be small but he radiated the most snuggable heat, Chac held his little spoon from behind and squeezed him until the jester wheezed. 

Cicero could barely move his arms but did so to pull the covers further over them, grunting in effort when the elf just wouldn’t budge. Chac snickered and blatantly sniffed Cicero’s hair, snorted against his neck. It made the Imperial squawk, his bare hands gripping in the night for Chac’s until they found each other’s and wrestled. 

"What are you doing?!" Cicero yelped, laughing hysterically once those wrestling hands became ones that tickled Cicero’s sides until he was crying. Cicero was close to screeching in the night and damn it wont the neighbors be confused? 

"Ooh Cicero will pop, no no NO!" He laughed, Chac now crawling over the prone man and tickling him until he was blushing as red as ever. Dreads fell and tickled Cicero’s face all the while, until he reached up with both hands and clamped down on the elf’s ears.

"Cicero!" The Listener shouts "-don’t you dare!" Chac knew this game, and Cicero was looking up at him, flushed and panting in a delightful way. Cicero’s grip released slowly when it became clear the tickling was done and merciless Listener has let him live again.

"Okay, we sleep in truth this time?"

"Agreed.." Cicero said, unsure, but his faith in the Listener was strong. He fell once again into the elf’s arms, laying on their sides and Cicero’s petite body fitting perfectly in the curve of Chac’s. It was so quiet now, so unlike before, and all Cicero had to concentrate on was the labored breathing of the elf behind him. 

"Goodnight, my little hobgoblin." Chac growls,  his firm bicep now Cicero’s pillow and each breath against his back. Cicero squeaks and nestles himself closer to the elf, his own fingers clinging tight to the hairy arm over his chest. It was the safest place Cicero could ever be, and in his arms there is no fear that could best him. 

They sleep, and the fear of the Void, the coldness of Mother’s coffin, nothing dared threaten him that night. 


End file.
